The boob saga continues well into 22 weeks. I took another trip to the maternity triage last weekend because I was getting pretty pissed off with having a really hurty boob and the antibiotics were doing nothing for it. The midwife told me mastitis is rare in pregnancy and to be honest, I didn't have the whole fluey thing you get with it so I did wonder. Anyway, according to the doctor it's completely normal. Part relieved, part livid that I'd been taking antibiotics for almost two weeks for no reason and they'd made me feel like shit. Ah, the NHS. So good yet so fucking bad.

My vagina still threatens to drop out every day and it gets worse with time which I knew would be the case but I'm sucking up the pain, hell I've been in labour so I can deal with this shit. Just. I still have clear skin and shiny hair which is a bonus but the nausea still lingers in the background like the little bitch it is. But boob and vagina aside, I feel ok.

I've been eating a lot of ice cream and avoiding the scales which I know I'll regret come November when I'm fat on my 30th but my aim is to drink through it and properly celebrate it next year when I'm not longer a flabby, leaky mess. In about five years.

Still struggling with clothes but I guessed as it gets hotter (GET HOTTER) I can just wear less. It's totally acceptable to wear a bikini to the Co-op right? (It is in these parts)

Really, though, I'm struggling this week. People think that being pregnant and having a four year old is easy because they can amuse themselves but that's not always true. Especially not when the sun is shining. I'm so tired, SO tired, and I'm not sleeping well plus Lil thought it would be fun to wake up at 9:30 last night and was totally down with staying awake until gone 2:30 this morning. And it's me that has to sort this kind of shit out, naturally. All I do all day is sit on my arse and eat cake, I don't have an important paid job. I can see into the future and it ain't pretty.

This week hasn't been much different to last. I had to go back to the doctors on Monday as the mastitis wasn't getting any better and it turns out I have an abscess and the antibiotics I was prescribed weren't strong enough. I'm half way through this course now and hopefully come next week it'll be completely cleared, I don't much fancy having it drained.

We also had my 20 week scan which showed everything to be as it should. The baby is measuring correctly for 21 weeks and this time decided to stay still long enough for a decent picture.

My tolerance levels this week are very low. I'm super agitated all the time and cannot be bothered to speak to anyone, I don't know if it's the SPD that's making me ratty. Perhaps it the sciatica or maybe even the fucking mastitis. Can you tell I'm in 'woe is me' mode? I just can't deal with people this week, I'M IN TOO MUCH PAIN.

I'm hungry always (and it shows on the scales) and generally fly into a rage about the smallest thing. After three weeks of pure happiness some time ago, it's pretty annoying to feel this way but hopefully it'll pass soon enough. I think it's the boob thing that's making me feel super anxious, I still can't stop thinking about it being inflammatory breast cancer. I know it sounds ridiculous but my mental hormones won't slow down and my brain is whirring like crazy. I have stopped googling it though, which is a small victory, and I'm sure as soon as it's cleared up (I HOPE), I'll stop feeling like a mental woman. It's doing my head in.

No cravings and I don't really fancy anything in particular... just food. I never want what's for dinner though which is typical and I'm still off cooking. WHEN AM I GOING TO HAVE A POSITIVE WEEK?

I remember sitting down at 8 weeks pregnant and declaring, through the general fug of morning sickness and extreme exhaustion, that I want four kids and will happily do this again. Today, for the first time this pregnancy, I decided that actually... fuck this. I am not doing it again. Those first weeks of feeling gross are nothing compared to how I've felt these past two weeks what with boob and back and general undercarriage pain. "You said that before" is not a helpful retort. So far this pregnancy has been rougher than when I was carrying Lil. Lord knows I'm grateful to be pregnant again but it is so fucking hard, SO FUCKING HARD.

Please direct me back to this post when I tell you I want more babies. It is not going to happen.

Another shit show of a week but in the form of a breast infection (mastitis). And yes, you can get this if you're a) pregnant and b) not breastfeeding. I've been anxious as fuck after learning the symptoms of mastitis are pretty much the same as inflammatory breast cancer (educate yourself about this type of breast cancer ladies, it doesn't involves lumps), THANKS DR GOOGLE, and what with the mental full moon this week it kind of tipped me over the edge. Crazy, anxious, psycho bitch pregnant woman over here... Anyway, I have antibiotics and have banned myself from the internet unless it's to look at shit maternity clothes or to read the showbiz gossip over at the Daily Mail (don't judge) and have found I'm spending less time on my phone (in general) which is nice.

So, twenty weeks! Half way there etc etc, providing this one doesn't do a Lil and turn up two weeks late. Sore boobs aside, I've been agitated this week (full moon LOLZ) and totally uninspired at dinner time which isn't normal for me. This means I haven't been eating that great although I'm having quite a bit of fruit and dreaming of bbq's (HURRY UP AND BUY A NEW BBQ, HUSBAND) with salads.

I'm still struggling with maternity wear, even after a ton of suggestions on Instagram. Apparently pregnant women have lobotomies at the point of conception therefore lose all sense of style (ASOS I'm looking at you). I shall spend my holiday wearing oversized kaftans, sulking in the shade (not really, I'll be letting it all hang out whilst stuffing my face and drinking gallons of w....ater).

The baby's kicks are getting harder every week and watching Lil's face light up when she feels one fills me with joy. Pretty sure she's going to be the best big sister.

I fell in the bathroom the other day, completely lost my balance, whacked my head on the radiator and landed on my front. The midwife wasn't concerned and I was told a couple of times that the baby may have turned, whatever happened it freaked me out so now I've clued Lil up on how to call for help if (god forbid) she needs it (which is also quite funny because she likes to disturb her dad at work countless times during the day talking absolute nonsense and then hanging up... must work on her telephone manner). Oh, pregnancy.

There isn't much else to say this week. No piles, no more stray hairs popping out from my chin (sexy), no disgusting wind (yet). I'm counting down until it's time to lay on the beach resembling a slightly smaller version of a whale. Which reminds me, if you have any great holiday book suggestions (I like dark and twisted, no chick flick nonsense) they'd be greatly appreciated.